floating around like an oversized tinkerbell

Their tour had started off with a couple of shows not far from home. It'd been a warm-up; they'd all felt it as a warm-up, even if the venues were bigger and the crowds had grown. But then they'd gotten on a plane, Jill and Dane practically vibrating while Trent and Tab played their best at casual. And nothing had felt quite the same since they'd landed in Belgium.

It wasn't that it mattered much to Jack. A couple thousand miles was nothing - it was practically their backyard. But it was hard not to get infected by his bandmates' sense that something big was happening. Something new. So when Jill had knocked on their hotel room door to do some more vibrating about their very first European festival show, Jack had gotten out.

Onto the street, but not much further. Honestly, he probably looked like some kind of brooding teen having a midlife crisis, leaning against the hotel's crumbling brick wall in his worn-down brown leather jacket and his Worm t-shirt, staring up at the stars. But whatever. If anyone was out this late, it was their problem.

So far, everything was working out just fine. This was probably the safest any of them had felt on tour - between their stern new tour manager and Lana, everything felt like it was being handled with military precision. They arrived on time, with exactly the right amount of merch, their instruments pristine and food in their bellies.

He wouldn't have expected anything less.

And yet he was still here, restless in a whole new way. It wasn't the new territory, not really. Maybe it was the threat of the old territory at the very end of it - three nights in Toronto. Maybe it was the increasingly-familiar night sky, the knowledge that last year he'd still wedged time at Fandom into this and now he was again, somehow, letting a part of Atton Rand slip away so he could fit better in this skin.

Maybe it was the fact he hadn't had a haircut in six months and his hair was starting to itch the back of his neck.

Who knew? Either way, here he was, staring up at the sky, regretting the fact he'd given up smoking a couple of years ago.

[[ open for phone calls, texts, and anyone with a reason to be here ]]